RPlog:Surface Scars Cut Deep
The scarred officer isn't quite as cocky and confident as she usually is. No, Morganna knows she's done something stupid and she's going to pay for it. A little flare of anger flashes through morganna before she opens the door. How can people expect respect if they don't respect her? The woman opens the door and steps through, the anger still there in her eye, but her demeanour is a little more submissive. "You wanted to see me, my lord." it isn't a quiestion... she knows why she's here. Joir is once again sitting at the local Bureau officers desk, looking down at a datapad. As Morganna enters he looks up, and says with a cold - emotionless voice "Sit" - indicating the seat in front of the desk. Her organic eye narrows, but she sits without snapping at Joir. No.. she'll wait to see what he has to say first. Morganna is strong, and she won't back down to people picking on her, or taunting her, which is what Drocal was doing. Morganna is a beast that needs to be tamed, but when crud like this happens her resistance grows. Joir holds both her organic, and her machine eye in an intense gaze, if he feels any revulsion toward the non-human part of her he hides it well behind the chilled exterior, and lifeless mask. Speaking quietly, his tone could almost be called conversational except for the hardned undercurrent. "Once again you have proved that you lack the necessary skills for Diplomacy" - he pauses a moment to see if she has anything to say about that, although clearly intending to continue. The robotic eye flashes and morganna scowls. Her fists clench on the table and she manages to keep Joir's gaze, not looking away like a good little subordinate should do, "I do not like being treated like dirt." comes Morgana's equally harsh reply. She expects something for that, oh yes, but she waits. There's this strange masochistic charm about her. Attack her.. she wants it. Dirt? - Joir thought Lord Arconen was remarkably controlled - however he does not bring that up. Continuing to stare coldly at Morganna he begins a speech which has obviously had some element pre-rehersal, or thought put into it. "I see. Morganna (The obvious use of her first name obviously an attempt to reach beyond her outer walls) there is a phrase which says 'You can't fight fire with fire' - however, that is exactly what I plan to do. For years I lived simply as a number, anonymous within a mass of white armor, harsh discipline and Imperial efficiency - discipline is my life, I have never known anything else - I have no idea how the undisciplined think, and so I lack one of the key tools of any general - knowledge of my enemy. You however are different, you have lived a life outside of the empire, you have seen the excesses, the undiscipline - the chaos. That is why I need you, why the New Order needs you.... those who embrace discipline can do nothing else, we need someone to fight the way we cannot..." For a long momrnt, Morganna pauses. The hard gaze she is holding with Joir falters as she furrows her brow. Firs he calls her by her first name.. and then..? The anger slowly melts away as she listens to Joir's words. In every sense, Morganna appears.. surprised. She expected to be demanded to change.. she expected to fight back and put the very poitns foreward that Joir just said, "Yes.." she blurts, not really knowing what else to say. Her little script has been tossed out the window, and Morganna has never been a good actor, "I mean.. I agree with you.. er.. I'm glad you see my.." she sighs, "Can I speak freely?" Joir holds the gaze, twin grey eyes meeting the odd pairing of machine and organic. Shaking his head slightly he says in the same quiet voice "No, not yet... not until I am finished". He pauses for a moment before continuing the final part of his thought out speech, voice changing to one flavoured by a slight tone of warning "However, despite that fact there remains a problem. I need your spirit, and you value your individuality - value it perhaps too much. I have a much different concept of life than you, I have dedicated my life to the Empire - and so have always placed the New Order before my will. (How true is that?) - Now I must ask you - learn self control, If not for me, or for the Empire then for yourself. Self control is tantamount to survival, If I or anyone can make you angry then I can control you... control your emotions and you control not only yourself, but your environment" Morganna unchenches her firsts and one hand raises to rub the back of her neck. She knows what Joir is saying, she knows exactly what she ahs to do.. but.. "It's harder for me to control my emotions than it looks." comes Morganna's low response, "How much do you know about me?" Looks like Morganna is ready to divulge some information. The anger has completely petered away, and is left with frustration and self doubt. Joir shakes his head again and holds up the datapad, which is currently displaying a file 'Morganna Tazecks'. Reverting back to his original quiet and simple tone Joir answers Morganna "Very little, your personell file is very brief, either my predecessor did not know your history - or he choose to withold it from your files." He lays the file back down in front of him, and looks back at Morganna - waiting for her to speak. Morganna leans back in the leather chair and stares up at the cieling pondering exactly where to start, "Have you ever been a slave? Have you ever had every single right stripped from you, been beaten, huiliated and treated like nothing?" The scarred woman's gaze lowers to Joir, that robotic eye flaring brightly, "Imagine that. Imagine to pain, the terror.. imagine being locked up and doped up on sedatives rather than being taught how to deal with yuor emotions, imagine being told that you aren't worthy of emotions.. Now.." she pauses, to let that all sink in, "Imagine that the person responsible for doing all that is your father. I was raised on a slave colony, my fatehr killed my mother for not aborting me when screened positive for my little psychological problem. I was raised as an animal, among animals.." her voice turns from anger to sadness, and ear, "It took me years to be able to go onto a space station, I almost freaked when I cam here for the first time." To some degree Joir does understand, to be a Stormtrooper officer-cadet is to be non-existant, the training is so harsh that the trainees either crack, or learn to supress all emotions behind an impentrable wall. In order to lead men into battle you are not allowed feelings, you are a machine - following out entrained rituals of death, you draw no pleasure from killing, simply to know that you serve the New Order is reward enough. However he joined by choice, he knew his goal... Morganna was not even given that dignity, obviously now she tries to regain it by challenging those who seek control over her. Speaking simply he replies "Go on" The scarred woman's mismatched gaze finds the cieling again. That burning enters her eyes again, "When I was around 20, I can't remember, I was so fnarking doped up on space knows what.. An Imperial bought me.." she hisses that last part and her eyes narrow, "I was younger, and very, very pretty.. He's here, the bastard is here.. I felkt like taking his freaking head off. He called me spoiled goods.. when I got these.." she draws her fingers down ythe trio of scars, "I was no longer worthy of being even his slave, he treats me like dirt even now.. I was hoping he'd have died by now.." her voice drips acid. There are few people that she wants to just drop dead on the spot The scars have in a strange way both revulsed and fascinated Joir, they are a livid symbol of the frailty of life - something which is not often seen behind the invunerable cold veneer of Imperial might. Speaking with undisguised curiousity he asks "Why do you keep them? - surely a few patches of synth-skin and a day in the Bacta tank could heal the surface scars". Morganna rolls up her sleeve and holds her arm out before her as she appraises the scars, "I like them..." she says simply, with a shrug. The anger has petered out of her voice.. for now "I'm thinking of getting the ones on my body removed, especially the ones caused by beatings on my back.. but these.." again her hand traces the scars on her face, "Will stay with me always." Joir nods, but does not understand, returning to her previous comments he adopts the same cold tone that he used in warning Morganna "And you believe what this man says? - you plan to let his comments rule your emotions? - Anger may grant you power, but it also takes away reason." The words come almost directly from cadet training so long ago, the place where he and thousands like him were taught that emotions were for the weak... Morganna shakes her head slowly and her eye narrows once more. "No, after thinking about it, I'm just going to ignore the bastartd or try my best to. Im not going to give him the pleasure of my discomfort.." she clenches her fist and stares at the table top, obviously wanting nothing more than to hurt the man, "He sees me as an object, and not as a human being.. I'm just hoping he doesn't humiliate me in public by proclaiming that he once owned me as a slave." Joir stares straight at Morganna, cold grey eyes once again boring away at the odd pairing of woman and machine, his voice rising in volume slightly, partnered by an increasingly harsh tone "And what if he does, what will you do? - logic would say fight or flee.... but there is another option. Ignore, if he sees no result he may well lose interest, people who draw pleasure from others pain like to see a reaction, without one they are soon bored." Morganna chews on that thought for a moment, "Yes, I know people love it.. I love nothing more than to feed off another's misery. I'll try to ignore him.. but I hate being humiliated, and treated like garbage.." she sighs and rubs the back of her neck.. "I hate it when my past comes to light." Joir nods, but once again does not completely understand, as a soldier and a man of noble birth he has been taught since childhood to have pride in his past, to respect his ancestory. His military career and further achievements have furthered his pride, he has served his Empire well - and has been rewarded for it. He cannot understand Morganna's pain and her wish to forget, but he knows one thing "Your past will always be with you, no matter what you do - I cannot pretend to understand your ordeal but you must accept your history if you wish to move to your future" Morganna doesn't have much to be proud of about her past, unlike the vast majority of people here, she is not of noble birth, and was brought up in squallor. She has spent the past 2 or 3 years learning. She is, in many ways, like a child. "I accept it.. but I hate it.." she looks around and a pain enters her organic eye, "When I watch the other people around here in the lounge, they all talk of their families, of their homeworlds.. I have neither. I'm not illustrious at all.. although I try my best to be.." Joir continues, he sees things that Morganna obviously misses. "What about your job, your promotion. You, a woman with little training managed not only to serve as Ambassador to Caspar but to get promoted to Chief Intelligence Officer for the entire Bureau of Operations. You can be proud of your achievements, you can find pride in your work..." The scarred woman nods, "Yes, I am very proud, and amazed at myself., I got this far because of other people saying I wasn't worth the ground they walk on." she scratches her chin, "But all the power and all the achievements I have.. every person and thing that I have killed.. I've never known true happiness.. or peace. I long for both, or one side of my mind does." Joir turns from Morganna, averting his gaze for a moment before staring out the porthole window into space. His voice changes to a more musing tone, although still remaining chilled. The emotionless mask of his face is marred slightly by the strange look in his grey eyes "True happiness is a myth, if it does exist I certainly do not know how to find it" he pauses and smiles slightly "Although there is one person who helps, but she is far away at the moment" Morganna scratches her chin and wonders why she doesn't feel as uncomfortable as she should, "I had someone once.." she shrugs, "it hurts more than it heals.. I'm probably more bitter and nasty now that I've had a brief taste of life." Her eyes peer towards the huge transparisteel window, "It's also why I keep the scars, I don't like pople fawning over me.." Strange how living can make one bitter, for Joir it was slightly different - he died inside and was brought back to life by the companionship of one whom he was destined to protect from the greatest Evil in the Galaxy. As such he view life differently know that before, no longer so naive - no longer so trusting. Indicating the pile of datapads in front of him he replies "I understand, I am sorry but I have to finish this". The scarred one rises from the leather seat and inclines her head, "Thank you for this.. at least I know you're human, and not completely a machine." her eye flashes, "I'll try my best to not get pissed off as often, I'm thinking of going to Caspar to pick up something I left behind.. I need to get off the station.." Joir's Humanity is something he would rather keep hidden behind the usually impenetrable wall of selfcontrol, however he has revealed just a slice of it to Morganna today in an effort to reach her, to make her realise the importance of what he was saying. Nodding curtly to her he returns to his work, face once again hidden behind an unreadable mask Surface Scars Cut Deep